something has happened to the india i remember. this one doesn’t smell. before, the doors of the plane would open & the smell would physically hit you. that overwhelming stench. (and let’s face it, you know what smell i’m referring to.) you just wanted to stay on the plane & go back with it. you were even willing to help the flight attendants clean the plane so it gets ready to go back even faster. but now, there’s no smell. only clue you’re in india is the overabundance of indians. although it is monsoon season. so everything is wet. the air is wet. the smell is wet. this keyboard is wet. oh wait, maybe that india smell is just masked by the wet monsoon smell. i hope i make it out before monsoon season is over.

the benefit of monsoon season is everything is a luscious green. so green, it’s radioactive, almost yellow. but that yellow could be due to the number of men i’ve witness urinating on the side of the roads. even with india’s obscene population count, there’s a disproportionally large number of men peeing 5 feet from my passing car. contributing to that brilliant yellow hue i’ve grown so fond of.

and no one riding a motorcycle wears a helmet. i wonder if there’s even a law for the use of one. or maybe the indian gov’t considers the lack of them a form of population control.

my driver does have this fond habit of spitting out of the car. as in, while flying down the freeway, and i do mean flying, he’ll open the door, lean all the way out & hawk up a big one. and while he’s kissing asphalt, i’m watching him kiss asphalt. which means no one in the car is watching the road. and i’m okay with that. if i’m to become indian roadkill, i’d prefer not to be forewarned. i kind of like the idea of a surprise ending.

and why oh why do i keep visiting countries that qualify a hole in the ground as a worthy toilet?